A Nightly Embroidery

Night embroidered1
See, this is what happens when you forget to use your embroidery hoop: You risk the fabric stretching weirdly and getting out of shape. This piece was perfectly symmetrical when I drew it on the fabric, it just… contorted a bit as I was working on it. Let’s pretend we don’t see that, m’kay?

This is something I’ve been working on for quite a while. I would say it’s an image of Nótt, but that would be wrong. It is an image for Her more than it is of Her.


Night embroidereddetail4


The thread is wool, the fabric it’s embroidered on is linen, and then the whole thing is sewn onto another piece of wool fabric. The technique is mainly split stitch. The wooden stick holding it up I made from a juniper branch, and the detail of the button is an old button originating from gods know where. Oh and the design is all my own.


Night embroidered2


For all its flaws, I am fond of the result. I just wish my drawing skills were better, and that I had thought to use a hoop to keep the fabric straight. But never mind that now, in this case the meaning within is more important than the execution. For Nótt!



Late Night Musings

Summer is ending, and once again the evenings grow dark. As I was walking home late last night, on a lamp-less country road, the light was so sparse that I could barely see the surface I was stepping on. I did see the stars though, brilliant stars a plenty high above, and so I couldn’t stop smiling. So, so beautiful She is.

There are many Gods who have my respect and devotion, but none that awes me as much as Her. Nótt, Night Herself.

Part of me wishes I could build Her a temple, to show my love and share it with the world. At the same time I know, there is no greater place of worship than outside, under the stars. Under Her is Her own temple, grander than any ever built by man.


If only I could tell you all. All I see, all I feel, all I somehow just know. But words are insufficient, almost painfully so, in describing the mystery of Night. Perhaps if you seek Her, you will see as well?



Lately I have felt that it is time I took a more serious approach to Dreamwork. It has always been a talent of mine, one that includes both precognitive and telepathic dreams, but it has generally surfaced spontaneously rather than as a result of intentional practice. That I believe should change. I am to learn more of how to use this talent, intentionally.

So this I wish to say, to you who might be reading: I hereby offer my services as a Dreamworker in training. Eventually I might be in such control that I might actively seek out certain Dreams in order to answer questions, but for now I only speak of interpretations. So, if you wish feedback on what message might lay within your dreams, please do not hesitate to contact me. Just send a message to contactfny@gmail.com and I will respond as soon as I can. Anything you say is of course fully confidential.




I have not been posting often lately, but do not think I am gone. I’m here, still climbing up from this well of misery the latest failed ivf-attempt brought.


It’s silly really, how thin-skinned I get. A single word of critique or insult has me breaking down in tears. The slightest bit of stress makes my heart pound at double speed. I’m fragile, so damned fragile.


I hate being fragile.


I hate a great many things about me, really, but that’s one of the aspects that causes me the most trouble.


See now, this post wasn’t meant to be about such things, but here I am anyway. Falling right back into the well of self-pity that I detest so much.


Bloody hell.




Actually I meant to write something about faith, and of the path I am called to walk down. I meant to tell you more of She that is the Night Sky, of what She has taught me, of what I see in Her. But I can’t. As I sit down by the computer to write I feel it with overwhelming clarity: This I am not to speak of. You learn it yourself, or you don’t.


It’s surprisingly difficult not to speak of. I suppose there is still a childish part of me that wants to run up to mum and shout “look what I found!” It’s the same impulse now, only in a more adult context. Wanting to share what I’ve seen and learned.


But no.


Ghraourgh.  Enough. It is time for bed, the dreams await. Good night!

Kosmos Cat (Dream)



“What is that? A cat?”

It was a cat, it had to be, but also it was not. A black long-haired creature with blue eyes. Those eyes… They shifted, changed size and form. A deep deep blue, glittering like a starry night, pulsated at its chest. 

“What shall we call it?”

Kosmos, we decided to call it Kosmos.